Once Upon A Moonlit Night
by Baron Hausenpheffer
Summary: My collection of short, humorous Hellsing fics. Give 'em a shot (and a review)!
1. A Bite To Eat

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing; probably won't any time in the forseeable future.

Author's Note: This is my little collection of short Hellsing humor-fics (usually 1000 words or less). I probably won't update it on a regular basis; just whenever I get a good (yet short) idea.

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_A Bite To Eat_

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Integra Wingates Hellsing had been waiting all day for this.

It had been another busy day running the Hellsing Organization, the government-sponsored group that protected England from supernatural forces that would do it harm. Last night had been particularly busy; a rogue vampire was causing trouble (as usual), but the situation had become nightmarish when one of the vampire's ghouls had invaded a SHOPPING MALL, of all places. The situation was contained, but it had meant hours and hours of phone calls, apologies, and general "patching up the red tape" with the bureaucrats.

Now, finally, she was through with it for the day. With a tired smile, she walked into her favorite French restaurant, slid into her favorite chair, and ordered her food.

"Good Lord," she muttered, "it's good to finally be able to relax."

She sat there for a while, enjoying the atmosphere and time off. After about five minutes, the waiter finally started walking over to Ingtegra's booth with her food in hand. Integra had taken her glasses off and placed them on the table, and it was quite dark in that section of the restaurant, but for some reason she thought that something seemed very familiar about the gait of her waiter. Come to think of it, his general appearance reminded her a great deal of...somebody.

_"Heh. It seems my job has finally made me crack,"_ she laughed silently, _"I've become either senile or paranoid at the tender age of 23. Hahahahaha!" _

The waiter politely sat her plate of food on the table, but then did not walk away. He just stood there silently.

"Excuse me," queried Integra, "can I help you?"

For a second, the waiter just stood there. Then, he flashed a rather toothy grin.

"Sir Integra... Your ordeurves... Give me your ordeurves, my master!"

**THE END**

Heh, heh. I'm sorry for putting you all through that horrible pun, but it couldn't be helped. I conceived this little plot out of boredom and too many Mounds (C.) candy bars. I'm sure somebody out there might find it funny.

(_cue Eskimo laughing hysterically in an igloo somewhere in British Columbia_)

By the by, I realize that "ordeurves" is not an actual word. It was a somewhat phonetic spelling that I came up with for "hors d'oeuvres", which is French for "appetizers". It took me a good 10 minutes to find the correct spelling in the dictionary (ord-? oer-? heur-? hoer-?), and I figured that if I spelled it that way in the fanfic, everyone would be left scratching their heads and it would be a little less than funny by the time they figured it out. Forgive my butchering of the French language (as if it doesn't butcher itself enough).

Please review!


	2. Iscariot's Secret Weapon

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. I'm SO poor... Waaaaaah!

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Iscariot's Secret Weapon

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"Prepare to die, ye demonic wench!"

Seras was cowering in the refrigerated section of the supermarket, and NOT from the cold! She had lived in mortal fear of Father Alexander Anderson ever since their first encounter, a meeting which had left her with a long scar on both sides of her neck. Every time her unit was deployed in an area with a large Catholic population, she always kept a close eye out for the sadistic priest. After all, their next rendevous could be her last! However, the local grocery store had somehow slipped her mind as a hangout for murderous paladins...

"Heh heh heh..." Anderson chuckled as he towered over the petite vampiress. "I never figured on meeting you here, lass. Dannae matter, though. In fact, I'm a little glad we ran into each other. Yoor going to be the first victim o' ma new vampire-slaying tool!"

"Y-you don't say..." Seras gulped, clutching her grocery bag tightly.

"Oh, but ah do!" he laughed maniacally. "Any last words, Draculina?"

Seras fidgeted for a second before speaking. "Well, I rather wish Sir Integra had come and bought this orange juice herself... I suppose that's all..."

"Good enough!" the priest replied. "Now, behold ma newest, holiest weapon!"

He reached menacingly into his long overcoat...

"_Oh, great!_" Seras cringed. "_What is it this time? A machete? A spear? A broadsword? What does it matter? Whatever it is, he's about to impale me with it!_"

...and pulled out a large, silver hammer.

"This holy mallet is a divine instrument of punishment!" Anderson bellowed as he waved it around in the air. "'Tis made is pure silver, recovered from the catacombs at Rome. Ma boss, Maxwell, personally crafted it for me to smite evil demons such as yourself! Now, prepare to be sent to the neenth level o' Hades!"

Anderson was shocked to find his pretty-much-doomed victim snickering at him! "What, may ah ask, is so damn funny?" he spat.

"It--it's nothing," Seras fibbed.

The paladin looked slightly annoyed. "Don't lie to a priest, lass! Yee've got enough going again' your soul as is. Now tell me: what about being bludgeoned to death with this 'ere mallet has you so amused?"

"Well..." Seras hesitated. "You said Mr. Maxwell made it for you, right? That makes it Maxwell's Silver Hammer!"

"Ahhhhhhh... I'm afraid I doon't understand ye..." Anderson muttered, scratching his head.

"You know!" she grinned. "Like in the Beatles song!"

With that, she cleared her throat and began singing:

"Joan was quizzical; studied pataphysical  
Science in the home.  
Late nights all alone with a test tube.  
Oh, oh, oh, oh."

"Oh, yeah!" Anderson laughed. "I remember that one!"

He joined in (albeit with a heavy Scottish accent) for the second verse:

"Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine,  
Calls her on the phone.  
'Can I take you out to the pictures,  
Joa, oa, oa, oan?'"

Both the priest and the vampiress were really getting into it by this point, and sang the last verse in unison:

"But as she's getting ready to go,  
A knock comes on the door.

Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer  
Came down upon her head.  
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer  
Made sure that she was dead."

By the time they had finished, both of them were laughing heartily.

"Ooooh, it's been a long time since ah've heard that song!" Anderson smiled. Taking another look at the shiny mallet, he began laughing again. "This _is_ a stupid weapon, isn't it? What was ma boss thinkin'? Hahaha!"

"Well, it's pretty bloody silly, I'll grant you that!" Seras giggled.

Anderson placed the hammer back inside his coat, and turned toward the police girl with a smile on his face. "Ah, damn it! Now I'm in too good a mood to slay ye! Well, I can always kill you later, I suppose. Tell your master I said hello, and that I look forward to mounting his ugly mug on ma wall."

"I'll be sure to tell him!" Seras laughed nervously. "Well, goodbye, Mr. Anderson!"

"Via con Dios, lass!" he remarked as she hurried away.

Alexander Anderson was about to make his exit as well, when a horrified scream stopped him. "M-my iceboxes! What have you done?"

Anderson turned around to see the enraged store owner standing next to a heap of broken glass and spilled foodstuffs. The priest blushed a deep crimson.

"_Maybe I got a wee bit carried away with the hammer while I was a' singing..._"

THE END 

Extra Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Maxwell's Silver Hammer". The Beatles do.

Review this, or face the wrath of the Baron's Ferrous Nail-Driving Tool!


	3. The Same Old Thing

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. Nope. Sure don't. I don't own any _people_ either. Thirteenth Amendment took care of that one.

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The Same Old Thing

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"Bon appetit, Ms. Victoria," Walter smiled as he placed her chilled blood packet on the table.

She smiled back, but it was obviously a forced one. "Thanks, Walter," she murmured, "but I'm not very hungry right now. You can leave it; maybe I'll have a bit later."

Walter's brow creased in concern. "But Miss Victoria, you haven't eaten all day, and I don't remember you eating yesterday, either. You're not still having reservations about drinking the medical blood, are you?"

She shook her head.

"Well," Walter said, scratching his head and grinning slightly, "what is it then? I certainly hope you haven't been indulging in midnight snacks! The men might appreciate the attention, but..."

Walter and Seras both got a pretty good laugh out of that one. "No, Walter," she giggled, "it's nothing like that, I can promise you! It's just... I'm really getting tired of the taste of blood. I know it's all I CAN eat, but it doesn't offer much variety, you know?"

Walter's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Alucard has never complained about it. I just thought that there must be subtle differences in taste, and that was what kept him satisfied..."

Seras looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose there might be a little difference, but it's still like picking out 397 different kinds of tomato juice. They all still taste like tomatoes! Besides, Master strikes me as the type of person that, if he _were_ human and _could_ eat other things, would eat roasted, unspiced meat every single day."

"Hmm... Point taken," Walter muttered. "Well, Miss Victoria, I've never given much thought to flavoring blood. However, I happen to be acquainted with several distinguished chefs that might be able to give us some ideas."

Seras was very confused. "Ummmm... Walter? _What_ exactly are you going to ask them? 'What's the best recipe you have for human blood?' Won't that... you know, raise some eyebrows?"

He grinned. "Don't be silly, Seras. I'll pose it to them as a hypothetical question: 'If you were going to fix a feast for a vampire, how would you prepare it?' Who knows; they might jump at the challenge. Hahaha!"

He turned to leave, but added one more thing as he was walking out the doorway. "Oh, by the way, let's keep this matter our little secret, okay? I don't think Sir Integra would be very pleased if she knew about all of the outside correspondence this will require."

"Right!" Seras nodded. "Gotcha!"

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Within days, mail from all over the world began pouring into Walter's mailbox. By the end of the week, he had amassed a considerable pile, and lugged it down to Seras's room in the basement for inspection. Seras couldn't believe her eyes: Walter's "acquaintences" included many of the world's biggest celebrities!

"Walter, how do you know all of these people?" she asked in disbelief.

"Seras, between being a gentleman's gentleman and a member of the Hellsing Organization, I have met quite a few interesting characters in my day!" he laughed.

Still in disbelief, Seras began reading the letters. The first one was from a famous American businesswoman who had crafted an image as a home improvement guru. Unfortunately, she had recently run afoul of stock-trading laws, and the letter was addressed from a jail. It read:

"_How to flavor blood? Walter, you've sent me some interesting mail in the past, but this one takes the cake! Well, personally I would put as much garlic in it as humanly possible! Hahaha!_"

Seras grimaced. "That woman **belongs** in prison... Next!"

She smiled as she saw the name on the next one. It was from another American, a celebrity chef with a Cajun accent and his own television show. Perhaps his idea would be a little better...

"_Eh, I'm really not sure, Walter. Normally I'd kick it up a notch with garlic, but I doubt that the dinner guests would appreciate it! Hahaha! Well, next to garlic, the tastiest thing in the world is chocolate, so I think I'd melt some into it. I bet it's so good that the vampires will tip the waiter instead of tapping his neck!_"

"Chocolate, huh?" Seras mused.

Walter placed a small bowl of reddish-brown liquid in front of her. "I took the liberty of preparing several of the suggested recipes that MIGHT work. Care for a taste?"

Seras tried a spoonfull; her facial expression showed mixed feelings about the concoction. "Well... It's not _terrible_, but I've had better. Let's see about these others."

A large sweatdrop appeared on Seras's head when she read the name on the next letter.

"What the... HIM? " she gasped.

It was from none other than that legendary rocker, O.O.!

Walter looked slightly embarassed. "Well, I simply thought that a man who bites the heads off of doves and bats might have some knowledge about the subject..."

Seras nervously chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you've got a point there."

"_Hey, Walter! How's it going? Sharon got spellcheck on this 'ere computer, so you might be able to read my letter this time! Hahaha! Leave it to you to ask me a question as bloody crazy as this; you always were the wilder of the two of us. My recommendation is to mix in sour cream, bacon bits, and butter. Well, see you at the next concert, mate!_"

Eyes as wide as saucers, Seras looked at Walter, then at the letter, and then at Walter again.

"It's a long, long story!" he laughed, obviously intending for the subject to be dropped.

"Right..." she whispered as he put the "baked potato style" blood mixture on the table. She took one taste and quickly spit it into her napkin!

"Cross that one off the list!" she gagged, taking a small sip of water.

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An hour later, Seras and Walter were no closer to finding the perfect additives. They had tried recipe after recipe, but none of them could be classified as "good", and few even made it to "mediocre". After trying so many culinary failures, Seras was beginning to feel slightly queasy and more than a little dejected.

"I'm beginning to think that this is hopeless, Walter," she sighed.

"Indeed," he said with a frown. "Who would have thought that finding the perfect spice for blood would be so difficult... We might as well be searching for the Holy Grail or Philosopher's Stone for all the luck we're having!"

"You two seem to be in a bit of a bind," a voice from the doorway quipped.

Walter whipped around to see (to his mortification) that the voice belonged to Sir Integra Hellsing! She was glaring daggers at her two subordinates; with a sinking feeling, they realized that they had been caught in the act.

"S-Sir Integra!" Walter stammered, bowing. "Please forgive me; I should have consulted you before I--"

"Don't listen to him!" Seras interrupted. "It's my fault. **I** asked him to do it!"

"**Silence!**" roared Sir Integra. Then, to her cowering underlings' surprise, an amused smile spread over her face!

"Hahaha! Had you there, didn't I?" she laughed. "Don't worry, Walter; you aren't in trouble, and neither is Seras. One of your letters somehow made its way to my desk, and I quickly guessed what was going on. I feel pity for you, Seras, and I'm here to help!"

Walter suddenly noticed that Integra was holding a basket full of ingredients in her hand. Without a word, she made her way to the table and unpacked it. Once the basket was completely empty, she tossed Seras a notepad and pen. "Write this down for future reference," she ordered.

With that, Integra began rattling off a long list of crimson-colored recipies: "**Tex-Mex Blood**: _add cilantro, tomato juice, and cayenne pepper._ **Italian-Style Blood**: _add thyme, oregano, and a pinch of parmesan cheese._ **Curry Blood**: _add curry, saffron, and sesame seeds._ **Dessert Blood**: _add cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla..._"

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Within a matter of minutes, Seras was slurping down the red delicacies with a relish that surprised not only Integra and Walter, but herself as well! Integra's concoctions were absolutely delicious (at least according to a bloodsucker's tastebuds), and the last time Seras had enjoyed eating anything this much was a steak she had had 3 days prior to becoming a vampire.

Once she had finally downed them all, Seras leaned back in her chair and patted her belly. "Mmmmmmm! Those were delicious, Sir Integra!" she said. "How did you learn to make them?"

"I must admit, I was wondering the same thing myself," Walter added, unable to hide his curiosity.

Integra smiled knowingly. "They weren't _my_ recipies. Mr. Burrows gave them to me."

Upon hearing this, Walter got the strangest look on his face. Seras had never heard of this fellow, and Walter's reaction only made her more confused.

"Who's he?" she asked. "A 'good' vampire like Helena?"

"Not exactly..." Walter murmured, still a little dazed. "He's the Hellsing family lawyer..."

THE END

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Heh, heh. Most stereotypes _do_ have some basis in truth, ya know? By the way, I'm sorry about not putting the celebrities' names in the story. I noticed that doing so is against the rules, and I've been a bit paranoid about such things ever since I was shut down for a "script format" violation. Still, I think I've dropped enough clues that it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out who I'm referring to.

Well, I hope you liked it, but please drop me a review regardless!


	4. Souvenir

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. Darn shame, really... Oh yeah. I don't own the "Colt" brand, either.

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Souvenir

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"Alucard! Seras! Is she home yet?"

Alucard sighed wearily. "No, Walter. For the umpteenth time, Sir Integra isn't here yet."

"Ah..." he sighed. "I see."

Two weeks ago, Sir Integra Hellsing had left for Crawford, Texas, to attend a trans-Atlantic security conference. She really hadn't wanted to attend, but since the American President had named her specifically, and since the Queen insisted, Integra really didn't have much choice in the matter. The conference formally ended yesterday, and Integra had phoned them that she was on her way home. Strangely enough, ever since that message had been received, Walter had been making a royal pest of himself. The words "Is she here yet?" had echoed through the house all day!

Turning a weary eye toward his old friend, Alucard asked "Walter, if you don't mind my asking, what are you so anxious about? I know you two are close, but Integra takes overseas trips all of the time. Why is this one any different?"

Walter gave the vampire an odd smile. "You remember what she said before she left, don't you? She's bringing us all back a souvenir..."

Alucard raised an eyebrow. "So? Snowglobes and hats never seemed to interest you before."

Just then, a Hellsing soldier came barging into the room, out of breath. "Forgive me for intruding, Sirs, but Sir Integra will be arriving at any moment, and she sent word that she wishes to see us all outside immediately!"

"Yahoo!" yelled Walter happily. He quickly darted out the door, leaving Alucard and the soldier alone.

The soldier gulped and fidgeted slightly. "Sir, I hope you don't mind my asking, but what's gotten into Mr. Dullneaz?"

Alucard shrugged lazily. "Don't ask me; I've been trying to figure that one out all day."

With that, he got up and phased through the wall, heading toward the courtyard.

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Most of Hellsing was already waiting outside, arranged in neat rank and file. Seras smiled as Alucard stepped into place beside her.

"Hello, Master!" she greeted him. "How's your day been so..."

Her sentence trailed off as the strangest thing she had ever seen came bounding out of the front door. It was Walter, carrying a feather duster in his hand and skipping like a schoolgirl; even more amazing was the fact that he was covering roughly seven feet per skip! While still a good six yards away, he stopped, turned around, and backflipped into place on the other side of Seras!

Staring bug-eyed at the normally quiet butler, Seras struggled to speak. Finally, she stammered "W-well hello, Walter... Having a good day, are we?"

The butler nodded emphatically, then faced forward, a giant grin on his face. Seras looked toward her master hoping for an explanation, but received only a bewildered shrug. Before any more words could be exchanged, Sir Integra drove up in her black limo and got out.

"Well, lady and gentlemen, I must say that it's good to be back in England," she said to the cheers of her men. "My grammar may never be the same. Hahaha... In all seriousness, though, Texas was a fairly nice place, and it boasted quite a few good attributes. As promised, I brought something home for all of you. For all of you soldiers, I have ordered a large shipment of Texas beef and barbeque sauce. I can assure you that you'll enjoy every morsel!"

After another round of cheers, she said "All of you are now dismissed, with the exception of my non-regular staff and officers."

With that, the crowd walked off, leaving only Alucard, Seras, Walter, Ferguson, Lt. Pickman, and Pip Bernadette standing in front of Integra. She walked over to Pip first.

"Mr. Bernadette, you love that hat of yours, the one that reads 'Britannica Cowboy', do you not?" she asked.

"Of course, Madam," he answered. "I wouldn't part with eet for all zee money in the world."

"I'm not asking you to," she grinned "but I like my staff to look sharp. In light of that..."

She popped open the limo's trunk and pulled out a leather cowboy hat. As she placed it on his head, he crowed with joy.

"C'est tres beau!" he happily exclaimed. "Just when everyone thought I couldn't get any sexier, now I have this baby to boost my looks even more!"

After everyone finished groaning at Mr. Narcissus, Integra pulled three square, black cases from the limo and lugged them over to her officers. Placing them on the ground, she smiled, "Ferguson, Pickman, Alucard: these are for you."

They excitedly opened their boxes, which they discovered contained two Colt revolvers each. They were all tickled pink, especially Alucard.

"Master, I haven't seen one of these since I shot Billy the Kid and took his!" he gleefully exclaimed. "I applaud you on your good taste."

Integra smiled; she thought he would approve. Finally, she turned to Seras and said "Ms. Victoria, I don't have your gift with me, but it should arrive any day now. While it's not a specifically Texan or American gift, I thought you would appreciate a little more in the way of wardrobe."

Seras's eyes lit up. "Boy, would I ever! Don't get me wrong; I like my uniform, but variety is the spice of life, as they say."

"Indeed," nodded Integra. "I bought you several 'everyday street clothes' outfits, and threw in one that has the 'cowgirl' look, just for kicks."

"Thanks!" Seras giggled. "I've always wondered how I'd look in cowboy boots."

"Well, then, my job is done," Integra concluded. Walter looked like there had been a death in the family. After taking a look at his forlorn face, Integra tried to hold in her laughter, but finally gave up.

Through giggles, she said "Don't worry, Walter! I didn't forget your gift."

The Hellsing butler was suddenly "all rainbows and butterflies" again. Integra pulled an plain-looking cardboard box out of the limo and placed it in Walter's eager hands.

"Bless you, Sir Integra!" he exclaimed. With that, he took off running toward the house at full speed.

Everyone except Integra sweatdropped. Finally, Alucard whirled around to face his master, frustration and confusion written all over his face. "All right, Master! Spill the beans! What in the world is in that box?"

Integra gave him a coquettish smile. "Something Walter has wanted to get his hands on for a long, long time."

"Which is?" Seras asked, curiosity consuming her.

Integra's smile grew larger. "Barbed wire."

THE END

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Hahaha! I feel sorry for whoever gets to be his test subject, don't you? Anyway, please drop me a review!


	5. The Monster in the Morgue

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. I'm sure that was a shock, but you'll just have to get over it.

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_The Monster in the Morgue_

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Dr. Fitzgerald paced back and forth nervously, giving the clock on the wall an occasional anxious glance. Behind him, his assistant was trying to calm a weeping nurse whose ghostly-white complexion bespoke her terror. Over the soft sobbing of the nurse, a hideous growling noise could be heard from the adjacent room.

Finally, the nurse choked, "I... I don't know how much longer I can take this..."

"Damn it all!" Dr. Fitzgerald erupted, kicking the wall. "I called the police nearly an hour ago! What in heaven's name could be taking them so long?"

John, his assistant, was about to reply when a sharp knock came at the door.

"Th-that's probably them right now! You see, Doctor? You got yourself all worked up over nothing," John said, breathing a sigh of relief as he got up to answer the door.

Upon opening it, he was faced by a young blonde in a dark green suit. She was about average height, pretty, and wore steel-rimmed glasses, but what struck John most were her eyes. Blue as the polar seas, they had an indefinable coldness to them that matched that clime well.

"You are the morgue staff for St. James' Hospital, correct?" she asked. After a quick nod from Dr. Fitzgerald, she said, "I thought so. I'm Integra Wallace of the London Police Department. I believe you called about about an incident involving one of your corpses?"

"Yes, yes! I'm so glad you're here!" the relieved doctor replied, shaking her hand warmly. "It's been nearly unbearable! All of that ghastly noise... it's been like a bad horror movie."

Noticing the impatient expression on Integra's face, he blushed and stammered, "Ah, y-yes. I suppose I should start at the beginning. Well, there's not much to say. The body was found on a park bench earlier tonight and brought here. Cause of death is currently unknown, but from her body temperature I would say that she had been dead for several hours. She wasn't carrying any ID, so the police asked us to 'put her on ice' until she could be identified. We bagged and shelved her without any problems, but less than an hour later this horrible, horrible noise, like a growling dog, began coming from her freezer. Janet, our nurse, opened the door slightly, and she swears that the body bag was moving around."

"And you're sure that the person was dead when she was brought in?" Integra queried.

"Positive," the doctor answered. "She was dead as a doornail. Besides, if (by some awful coincidence) I was wrong, the temperature inside the freezer would have killed her within 15 minutes. I can't imagine what we're dealing with here..."

"I can," Integra muttered coldly. "Does the door to your freezer room have a strong lock?"

"Yes, very strong. Why?" John asked.

"Lock it after me," Integra commanded. "Don't open it again until I give the word. Do you understand?"

Dr. Fitzgerald nodded solemnly. With that, Integra opened the door and stepped inside. She waited until she heard the door lock, then turned to face the wall of lockers. She involuntarily shuddered, partly from the cold, but also from the sound that had struck such fear in the morgue staff.

_**SHHHHHHRRRRARRRR... SHHHHRRRRRRAAAARRR...**_

"_What an awful racket..._" she thought. "_Doubtless it's some poor ghoul rolling around inside there. I suppose I'd better put her out of her misery._"

Integra Wingates Hellsing normally left such work for her cronies, but a major vampire incident in Wales had required nearly all of her men, leaving her with little more than Walter, Seras, and a skeleton staff of troops. When the London P.D. had received the unnerving phone call from the morgue, they had followed protocol and forwarded the message to the Hellsing Organization. With Seras and the troops out on patrol and with Walter under the weather, Integra had no choice but to see to the matter personally. Not that she minded; a little "grunt work" was a welcome relief from the mountain of boring paperwork she had been dealing with.

Ms. Hellsing cautiously crept closer to the lockers, listening to determine which one the growling sound was coming from. After walking a few paces, she stopped in front of locker B-4.

"Gotcha..." Integra whispered with a smirk.

Deciding to catch the ghoul (or vampire, whichever might be the case) off-guard, Integra yanked the door open, slid the tray out, and trained her gun on the head of the corpse in one quick movement. To her surprise, the cadaver didn't even wiggle; it just kept making that awful noise. Integra's brow furrowed as she listened to the sound coming from the body bag. Once out of the locker, it didn't sound quite so much like a "growl". In fact, it was more like...

Integra grabbed the zipper and pulled it down in a lightning-fast movement... revealing the peaceful face of Seras Victoria! Despite the icy temperature within the room, Integra couldn't help but sweatdrop as she stared at her senior officer, fast asleep and snoring loudly.

"In the name of..." Integra groaned as she dropped her gun and slapped her hand to her eyes.

Scowling, she grabbed Seras by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Seras! Wake up, Seras! Officer Victoria, I order you to wake up this instant! Wake up, dammit!"

Seras's eyes flew open; wide-eyed and bewildered, she looked very much like a deer caught in the headlights.

"**Who? What? When? Where?**" she gasped. Catching sight of her boss, she said, "O-oh, Sir Integra! Hello! Is something the ma..."

Suddenly she noticed her surroundings. "Wh-where am I? **And what the hell am I doing in a body bag?**"

"You fell asleep on a park bench... didn't you, Officer Victoria?" Integra asked through clenched teeth.

"I... I only meant to rest for a minute," she answered apologetically. Her eyes widening with realization, she gasped, "Wait a minute! Do you mean somebody found me and thought I was--"

"Yes, yes, they thought you were deceased," Integra muttered. "Which, in fact, you are, but that's beside the point. The big question now is how we're going to explain--"

Integra was suddenly interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Her heart momentarily stopped beating as Dr. Fitzgerald and John rushed into the room.

John shouted, "Ms. Wallace? Are you all right? We thought we heard someone yelling, and..."

His words died off as he stared in disbelief at the pretty blonde corpse smiling nervously at him. For a moment, both sides simply stared at each other, and nobody spoke. Finally, Integra broke the silence.

"**PRAISE GOD! IT'S A MIRACLE!**" she screamed, raising her arms to the heavens. "She's alive! Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise! Get on your knees and thank him for this miracle! Hallelujah!"

Hastily extracting Seras from her body bag, Integra took her by the hand and led her past the flabbergasted hospital staff.

"Er... Have a nice night!" Seras sheepishly murmured, waving as she walked past.

Dr. Fitzgerald, John, and Janet could only nod as they watched Integra and Seras make their hurried exit.

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Once they left the hospital and reached the safety of Integra's limo, the Ice Queen melted. Letting out a breath she had been holding for nearly five minutes, Integra leaned wearily against the side of her car for support.

"H-haha... You know, in retrospect, that was a p-pretty funny situation back there... R-right, Sir?" Seras nervously giggled.

The death glare Integra gave her quickly silenced the petite vampiress. Straightening herself and pointing her index finger in Seras's face, Integra snarled, "Listen very carefully, Seras. If you EVER pull a stunt like that again, I will place you in a body bag myself, and you will **not be coming out**. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" Seras squeaked, her skin becoming even paler than usual.

After glowering at her subordinate a few seconds more for good measure, Integra opened the limousine door and stepped inside, followed shortly thereafter by Seras. Falling back in her seat, the Hellsing chief signaled the chauffeur to drive. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Integra picked up a glass of lemonade she had bought earlier that night and took a drink.

"For Pete's sake! The ice is all melted!" Integra grumbled. After taking a quick glance at her nigh-frozen companion, a mischievious smile played across her lips. "Ah, well. When life gives you lemons..."

Seras normally would have asked Integra to remove the cup from the side of her face, but she decided that (under the circumstances) it would be more prudent to remain quiet.

THE END

Greetinks, readers! Man, it's been a long time since I've updated this story... Ah, well. Like Seras, it wasn't REALLY dead; just stuck in a freezer somewhere. Hahaha! (Hopefully, my next update won't take half a year.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story, but please leave a review regardless. Scathing criticism and shameless flattery are both welcome. Later, homefries!


	6. Building a Better Mousetrap

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. I'm trying to talk Hirano out of it, though.

Author Note: By and large, the whole "Alucard pesters Integra in her office" scenario is the most overused, overdone, over-cliched scene in the entire Hellsing fandom, but if you can make it ridiculous enough, sometimes it will still get a chuckle. That's how I hit upon this idea...

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_Building a Better Mousetrap_

--------------------------

**BLAM! BLAM!**

"Out of my office, you miscreant!" Integra roared, lowering her smoking Beretta.

Alucard merely smiled as his face pulled itself back together. "My, my, master. It seems you're a little cranky this evening. Might I ask why?"

"You popped out of my desk drawer through one of those abominable portals of yours, scaring me half to death and nearly causing me to fall to my death out the east window. **What on earth do I have to be mad about?**" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Now, make your exit and leave me in peace!"

"As you wish. I'll make my exit, but I can't guarantee that second part," he remarked as he turned to go. "After all, infuriating you is far too much fun to give up entirely."

As he shut the door, the scowl on Integra's face melted into an annoyed frown. Walking back to her desk, she couldn't help but notice the numerous bullet holes dotting the north wall of her office. After counting for a few moments, she finally came up with the figure "43".

"At this rate, I'll die at a young age because of one too many nervous shocks," she muttered. "I'd simply kill him if he were a regular troop, but I'm afraid he's too useful to murder. Still, if only there were a way to put an end to his nonsense..."

Suddenly, a mischevious gleam appeared in her eye. "Perhaps a taste of his own medicine is in order... heh heh heh."

Punching a button on her intercom system, she said, "Walter! Ferguson! I need you two up here on the double. (_thinks for a second_) And bring a toolbox!"

------------------------

As the sun was setting, Integra, Walter, and Ferguson finally opened the door and stepped outside her office.

"Urrrhh... Ma'am, work like that is tough on an old man like me," Ferguson said playfully as he popped his back. "Get more young people like yourself and Walter to do it next time."

Walter couldn't help but laugh. "Hahaha... Actually, Mr. Ferguson, I think we old fogies did a pretty admirable job. What say you, Integra?"

"Yes, yes; top-notch work," she assured them. "I think we finally have the room 'Alucard-proof' now."

"A good thing, too, considering what's on your computer," Walter remarked.

A look of panic crossed Integra's face, and she quickly clapped a hand to Walter's mouth. She nervously whispered, "Are you bloody insane? What if he hears you?"

Unbeknowenst to her (but beknowenst to us), a pair of red eyes in a dark corner nearby narrowed as a result of a gargantuan smile.

------------------------

As the vampire cautiously phased through the door to his master's office, he glanced left and right in an attempt to locate whatever booby trap they had installed. He was just about to step inside when he noticed that one tile right next to the door was a slightly different color than the others.

"Oho! Is that the best you can do, Master? Hahaha..." he chuckled, stepping over it. Still advancing slowly, he made his way toward her desk but didn't find any more traps. Either his master had been terribly careless, or she had seriously underestimated him.

Finally, he reached her computer. While Alucard was hardly an expert with this newfangled technology, a little help from Seras and Walter (along with some practice on his own) had enabled him to glean a basic knowledge of how computers work.

His eyes greedily scanned her desktop, hoping to find whatever dark secret she had been hiding from him. "What could it be? Letters from a boyfriend? Top-secret mission plans? Some really bizarre fetish? I wouldn't care if it were pictures of the Queen in her knickers; if I can tease Integra with it, then it is information I must possess! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Finally, he saw something that caught his eye. "Hello? 'Classified information on Director Hellsing'... Just what I wanted to see."

Trying to supress that trademark maniacal laughter of his, he double-clicked on the icon. To his surprise, it brought up a music file. As the piece started up, Alucard instantly recognized it as "In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Grieg.

"Eh? What's going on? Where are all the juicy secrets?" Alucard demanded, smacking the uncooperative machine.

At that moment, his sensitive vampire ears picked up a sound coming from near the entrance. Peering over toward the door he had entered through, he saw what had to be the strangest contraption ever invented. Composed of everyday household items like brooms, balls, shoes, and kitchen appliances, it must have been engineered by either a genius or a madman. Alucard gasped involuntarily as he finally realized that the machine extended all around the room!

"What the--! Hmm... I guess I was paying too much attention to the floor earlier. Hahahaha..." the vampire muttered, sweatdropping. "Hey, wait a minute! What was that sound I heard?"

By taking a closer look at the device, he got his answer. Somehow or another, Integra must have wired the computer to "start the ball rolling" (both literally and figuratively) on the weird wall-contraption when that particular music file was selected. Near the beginning of the machine, a tiny iron ball rolled down an incline and knocked a shoe over. The shoe fell to the ground, hitting a lever that opened a trash can lid. As the lid flew open, it shot a chocolate chip cookie across the room, hitting a fan and turning it on.

"Now, where have I seen something like this before?" Alucard wondered aloud. "It almost seems like it was on TV. Oh, that's it! It was... **Tom and Jerry?** Uh, oh..."

His sweatdrop soon became a full-blown cold sweat as he watched the fan blow a boxing glove with balloons tied to it across the room, hitting a squeeze toy. The noise caused by the squeaking toy startled a sleeping cat, which jumped up and disturbed a box of marbles. All the while, "Hall of the Mountain King" kept playing and building toward its climax.

By this point, Alucard was starting to panic. "Curse you, Master... where does this accursed machine lead?"

His eyes darted all around the room trying to find where it ended, but the machine was far too complex to follow. Even worse, the machine's mechanisms were now going so lighting-fast that they matched the climaxing music. Alucard's eyes almost bugged out of his head as he looked around frantically, hoping to avoid whatever horrible end his master had intended for him. Finally, just as the music hit its emotional peak, he remembered what happened in all the cartoons.

"It's right above me!" he screamed in a high-pitched voice, quickly jumping backward. It was a move made just in time, as a bowling ball fell right where Alucard had been standing.

Panting heavily, he wheezed, "Check... my master. Nice try, but no cigar."

**WHAM!**

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!" Alucard wailed. "What in the name of--"

The vampire contorted his body in able to look upward and was mortified to see that he had been crushed under a large millstone. He was also just in time to see a large, gaping hole in the ceiling above him close. The nearly-halved vampire began struggling to escape, but a woman's cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Well, well, well. It seems you're getting a tad too predictable, servant."

As the green suit-clad blonde walked within his range of vision, he growled, "Master... you had this planned from the start, didn't you?"

"Pretty much," she admitted. "I told Walter to 'leak' the information about my computer, knowing that you would be able to resist neither the secret nor the challenge posed by obtaining it. After that, I depended on your short attention span, first to overlook the wall device because of the tile, then to overlook the millstone because of the wall device."

"I'm sure you're very proud of all of this," Alucard grumbled as he pulled his torso free, severing it from the rest of his body.

"Oh, you have **no** idea," she replied, a smug smile on her face. "Checkmate, vampire. I'll have that cigar you mentioned while I'm at it."

As she lit one of her prized Cuban cigars, she said, "Now, let this be a lesson to you, Alucard. You have to learn to respect people's personal space. You can't just--"

**BOOM!**

Integra wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but as she picked herself off the ground and glanced in a nearby mirror, it became painfully clear. Staring back at her was a ridiculous-looking woman with hair blown straight backward, face covered in soot, and an exploded cigar in her mouth. Of course, her pet vampire was rolling on the floor in convulsions of laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Let that be a lesson to you, Integra!" he guffawed. "Don't let arrogance blind--"

**BLAM!**

"Ow. That hurt, Master."

THE END

_Extra disclaimer: I don't own "Tom and Jerry". It sure would be cool to own one of those weird traps, though..._

Anyway, I hope you all got as much a kick out of reading this as I did by writing it. Regardless, please leave this cliche-skewering fellow a review, please! Au revoir for now!


	7. The Secret Meeting

Disclaimer: Guess who doesn't own Hellsing? Just guess. (If you chose "Baron Hausenpheffer", then congratulations; you're a master of the obvious.)

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_The Secret Meeting_

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"Dock! Dock, it is time for der secret meeting!"

The pudgy little Nazi had entered the lab rubbing his hands like a little boy in a candy store; it was obvious that Major Montana Max was **really** looking forward to something. The mad doctor in question was busy investigating a rotting corpse and seemed reluctant to look up from his work.

"Oh... is that so, Herr Major?" the tall man asked with a hint of dread in his voice. "Then, do you vish for me to assemble the officers?"

"Ja, ja. You know how much they all look forward to this," he replied jovially.

"Don't ve all?" Dock mumbled with a hint of sarcasm.

Luckily, the Major was far too excited to notice the quip. "Ah, yes... The joy of fellowship with one's commander, a fellowship that the troops on the ground do not, cannot share. I remember it vell... My superior, General Kurtz, often took me on guided tours of areas the lower ranks were not allowed to see. Dachau, Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen... such vonderful memories."

"Kurtz, Kurtz, Kurtz... Oh, ja! I remember now!" exclaimed Dock. "He was the one you shot for cheating during a card game! Hahaha!"

Major Max couldn't help but laugh as well. "Hahahaheeeeheeha! Ah, ja... I forgot about that. Good times, good times..."

Clearing his throat, Dock said, "Vell, I suppose I'd better round them up. Ve'll meet in the courtyard at 6:00, just like usual?"

"Just like usual," the Major echoed, stepping outside.

----------------

"All right, men!" Dock barked. "You all know the importance of vhat you about to experience, in particular the priority the Major puts on it, ja?"

Rip, Schrodinger, Zorin Blitz, and the Captain reluctantly nodded.

"Wery good," the mad doctor said grimly. "Then you vill behave this year? Ve don't vant any repeats of last year's fiasco."

"Spare us the lecture, Dock," Zorin snapped. "Ve'll behave already."

Rip hung her head slightly. "Let's just get this over vith. Even I have principles, and this wiolates every last one of them."

"Oh, you're a bunch of spoil-sports!" Schrodinger chuckled. "I always have a blast at the secret meetings."

Before any of the afore-mentioned group could strangle the young werewolf, the Captain's eyes went wide and he snapped to attention. Knowing what this signaled, the entire group scrambled to follow suit. Sure enough, the shadowy figure of Montana Max was standing in the doorway. In his hands were several dry-cleaner bags, and his face bore an unnerving smile.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there vas something I simply had to show you," he said, his apology belied by his shark-like grin. "I thought that such a rare occasion deserved a little more than everyday clothes."

Walking down the stairs and handing the bags out, he added, "Get dressed quickly, vill you? They don't like to be kept vaiting..."

----------------

The chauffer turned and whispered something to the Major, who in turn mouthed something back.

"Hans says ve vill arrive wery shortly," Max informed them. "Now, let us perform a quick check. Identification?"

The Millenium gang all cast a quick glance at the emblem on their clothes. "Check!"

"Properly groomed?"

"Check!"

"Veapons locked und loaded?"

"Check!"

"Wery good, then... It seems ve are 'good to go', as the English say," the Major chuckled. Just then, they felt the limousine come to a halt.

"A final vord of varning..." Major Max advised them. "Vatch yourselves. The men whom ve are about to pay homage to are much mightier than ve. Don't forget that."

"Yes, Sir!" they all shouted, saluting before exiting the vehicle.

----------------

"Man, what a dull day..." Jack muttered, straightening a pile of pamphlets. "And here I thought this job would be fun..."

"Ahem... excuse us..." a slightly nasally voice whispered.

"Yeah? You guys want some tickets, or... **Whoa!**"

Jack stared in astonishment at the group before him, marvelling at their incredible costumes. They were all wearing matching black and maroon outfits and carried mock phasers at their sides. In addition, several of them were sporting personal touches that must have taken hours to recreate. The tall, older guy had perfectly pointed ears, the tattooed chick's costume sported lots of "Borg"-tastic hardware, and the short, pudgy fellow (who appeared to be their leader) had his hair combed in imitation of the great Captain himself.

"Wicked awesome costumes, guys!" the adolescent chuckled, trading them passes for their cash. "The L.A. Trek-Con welcomes you!"

Ignoring his mortified subordinates, the Major beamed at Jack, made a "V" with his fingers, and exclaimed, "Liff long und prosper!"

THE END

Heh, heh! I can sort of imagine the Major as a Trekkie, can't you? I probably won't write many (if any) more stories involving Millenium; I tend to prefer the anime, and it's hard to portray such dark characters in a comic way. Nonetheless, I thought this awesome group deserved at least a moment in the spotlight, and I hope you enjoyed their appearance.

I'm hooked on feedback, and I don't intend to go to rehab for this problem any time soon. (_author casts a crazed glance at readers_) Feed my addiction and review!


	8. Shake What You Got

Disclaimer: Okie-dokie... this is getting friggin' redundant. From now on, let it be known that I don't own Hellsing; not in this chapter, not in any previous chapters, and not in any chapters to come. 'Nuff said.

Author Note: This story is quite a bit longer than most, but I doubt that will earn me many complaints. Like I said in the beginning, the thousand-word thing is just a guideline, not a rule. Anyhoo, enjoy!

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_Shake What You Got_

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"Oh, it's been so long," Seras breathed happily, taking in the scene around her.

The constantly changing lighting, the pulsing, powerful beat of the music, and the even louder din of the crowd; it was all just as she'd remembered it. The last time she'd been in this club was back in her human days. In fact, if memory served, this was the site of her last date. It had only been a year ago, but it seemed so long ago now.

"_Hmm... It's funny, how one little bite can change your perception of time,_" the vampiress thought, waxing philosophical. "_Still, one thing certainly hasn't changed..._"

"This is your idea of fun, Police Girl?" a voice from behind her asked sarcastically. "Spare me."

Seras rolled her eyes before letting her head fall. "_A night out with a grouch still seems like an eternity._"

----------

Tonight's merry little misadventure had started out much the same as they always did: with the words "I'm bored" coming from Alucard's lips. Seras hated when he said that. It always meant that she had to escort him around town in search of something that he might consider "fun", which was not as easy as it might sound. Provided she could actually find something to catch his interest, Alucard's terrible temper and slightly-veiled insanity almost always made a mess of the situation. A mess poor Seras had to clean up and accept the blame for.

No, the former policewoman was going to try something different tonight. They were going to do something that she enjoyed, and if Alucard had fun in the process... well and good. If he didn't, tough luck for him. As soon as her favorite club, _The Box_, came to mind, Seras could think of nothing else. She had always loved to dance; she wasn't necessarily fantastic at it or anything, but she always had a great time. After putting on her sexiest duds, her favorite shoes, and a little makeup, the result was without a doubt the hottest corpse ever to grace the dance floor (she could give the living quite a run for their money, too). Surprisingly, even Alucard had shown a little fashion sense: he still looked overly formal, but he had shed his trenchcoat and hat in favor of a dress shirt and black vest. Unfortunately, he didn't leave his attitude at home with his hat.

The tall, ancient vampire scanned the crowd, not particularly impressed. He muttered, "So we're here. Now what? Few of these people seem to know how to dance. We'd be better off wandering the club and feeding of the drunk."

"Master!" Seras hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. "That's an awful thing to say. Look, just try to enjoy yourself. There's bound to be some way you can occupy yourself without hurting anyone, right?"

"Such as?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Right on cue, the DJ stopped the music and shouted, "Hey, hey, ladies and gents! Do you know what time it is?"

A loud roar from the audience indicated that they certainly did. Chuckling, the DJ continued, "That's right! It's time for the once-a-week dance competition! So tell me: who's the hottest thing on two feet tonight? I... uh, oh! Who's this approaching the stage?"

"You see, Master? I told you that something fun would pop up! Let's watch the competition," Seras urged him, positively beaming. Not only did she love this sort of thing, but it was the perfect way to keep Alucard occupied!

She was just about to turn to face the stage when she saw Alucard's face warp into a look of complete shock. Worried, she asked, "M-Master... what's wrong?"

The vampire, dumbstruck and (for once) speechless, pointed at the woman standing on the stage. When Seras turned around and saw who it was, it was all she could do to keep from swooning. Standing right in the middle of the dance floor was Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, wearing a skimpy top, bell-bottom jeans, and a purple beret.

As Alucard began crossing himself, the DJ yelled, "Now, I think you all know Lady H. This red-hot ice queen has been the reigning princess of the dance floor for months now, and I'd be willing to bet that she's itching for some competition. Any takers?"

With nothing but hushed murmurs from the crowd, he shrugged and said, "Well, I'll give you some time to think it over. In the meantime, would you grace us by strutting your stuff, Lady?"

The bespectacled blonde grinned smugly and gave a nod, followed immediately by music blasting from the stereos. To the two vampires' utter amazement, their boss could really shake her tail (and pretty much everything else, too). Integra moved across the stage with effortless ease, earning shouts of admiration from the crowd.

"Did you know about this? Well, did you?" Alucard nearly screamed, gripping Seras by the shoulders.

"I-I-I had no bloody idea!" she gasped, still in a state of shock. "I haven't gone here since I was turned!"

"I see," Alucard replied, mulling the situation over. Suddenly, he got that all-too-familiar look of mischief in his eye.

"Master, you're not--" Seras started to beg, but it was too late. Alucard had already leapt over the heads of countless people and onto the stage.

"What the devil?" Integra screamed, blushing furiously under the green light. "Alucard, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here to show my master how to dance," he replied nonchalantly. "Don't get me wrong; you're very good, great even. Still, can you stand up against the groove of the night?"

"Oh, do tell," Integra chuckled, her confidence returning. "Then, by all means, teach me, monster."

Seras cradled her head in her hands. This would not end well.

"_Oh, for the love of... Alucard can't dance!_" she mentally moaned. "_He's so hopelessly old-fashioned that I doubt he's heard of the Hokie-Pokie, much less the kinds of moves Sir Integra was pulling. Unless, by some act of God, they play waltz music, Master is going to make a fool of himself..._"

Suddenly, the sound of maniacal laughter invaded her thoughts. A deep voice boomed, "_Now, now, Seras Victoria. Don't write your master off just yet._"

Her head jerked upward to watch the musical face-off. Alucard was smiling with that Cheshire Cat grin of his and muttering something just loud enough for Integra (and Seras, with her heightened senses) to hear.

"Releasing Boogie Restrictions to level five... level four, level three, level two, level one! Activating Michael Jackson Initiative!"

With little to no warning, the madly grinning vampire took off across the dance floor with a mix of modern and retro dance styles, including everything from the "Moonwalk" to the "Robot" to dirty dancing. Seras exhaled a sigh of relief, immensely relieved that her "date" hadn't made a total goober of himself. If anything, he was an instant hit! Still, the beautiful blonde with the baby-blue eyes was not to be outdone.

"Ha! Not bad, bloodsucker, but not good enough!" She began dancing with even more gusto and passion than before, making the crowd go absolutely bonkers. Seras clapped with admiration, but stopped when a certain pair of crimson eyes glared daggers at her. Soon, master and monster were engaged in a hotly contested battle of rhythm that had to be seen to be believed.

Just then, Seras felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned to face a very tall, slim man wearing a wide-brim hat sloped downward to cover his face.

He spoke directly and to the point: "May I have this dance?"

Seras couldn't exactly say why, but there was something very familiar about this man that caused her to instantly take a shine to him. Smiling, she said, "All right... why not?"

----------

"Getting tired, my master? I know that frail human body of yours must be--"

"Shove it up your arse, Alucard! I can keep going like this until sunrise!"

"What amazing endurance, ladies and gents! Let's give 'em a hand!" the DJ roared. Suddenly, he noticed two figures climbing the stairs to the dance stage.

"Are you off your rocker?" the female fairly screamed. "You didn't say anything about dancing **HERE!**"

"It's all right; just follow my lead," he gently instructed her.

"Oh, ho! It looks like we have two new challengers!" the DJ exclaimed. "What are your names?"

"You may call me 'Slim', I suppose," the man answered.

"S-S-Seras," the panic-stricken nosferatu managed to squeak out.

Alucard stared incredulously at his fledgling. He snarled, "Police Girl! What do you think you're doing?"

"What he said! Don't interfere!" Integra snapped.

Seras was trying to come up with an excuse/apology, but the thin man intervened on her behalf. Cocking his head sideways, he playfully asked, "What? Afraid this lovely lady and I might beat you at your own game?"

"No!" they both shouted hotly.

"Then it's settled; let's see what they can do!" the DJ said, cueing the lights.

As the song "It's Getting Hot in Here" began playing, Seras couldn't help but feel the irony in the musical selection. Although death technically made her immune to temperature extremes, she felt like her face was on fire. How in the world could she possibly--?

"Relax," her partner whispered. "I'll bet a pretty girl like you dances beautifully."

Caught off-guard by the compliment, Seras smiled, and for a brief moment her apprehension melted away. That moment was all it took.

Seras scarcely knew what was happening as she followed her dance partner's lead through what could only be described as a highly modified tango. Twists, turns, doing the splits, only to hop straight up afterward; he seemed a god of the dance, and she was matching him step-for-step.

As the final note of the song played, the two did an amazing double-backflip. For nearly a full five seconds, you could have heard a pin drop in the nightclub. Then, all bedlam broke loose. The crowd was nearly hysterical, and the DJ's announcement of two new champions was largely drowned out in the clamor.

As Seras and Slim took a bow, he said, "You see? You had a dancing godess in you the whole time."

"Y-yeah..." she said, her face flushed. "Who knew?"

----------

After the competition, Alucard, Integra, Seras, and Slim met backstage.

"Allow me to shake your hand, Sir. You too, Seras," he said, pumping their hands warmly. Despite the embarassment of losing, Alucard couldn't help admire moves like that.

"Truly amazing," Integra muttered thoughtfully. Turning to Slim, she asked, "Might I inquire where you learned to dance like that?"

"Oh, the same way everyone does, I would imagine," Slim answered. "Practice, and lots of it. Haha! Of course, one always does one's best work on a mission. For instance, I came here to feed the two of you a slice of humble pie to keep you from getting arrogant."

As she listened to Slim speak, Seras's eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and her skin turned even paler than usual. Whether she was holding her tongue or merely struck speechless is up to debate.

"Oh? And how exactly would you know me?" asked Integra, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

"More importantly, how would you know me?" demanded the No-Life King. "_Could it be that Iscariot or Millenium employs even better dancers than yours truly?_"

"Haha! I ought to know you," he retorted, removing his hat. "I shine your silverware."

Integra managed to choked out "**WALTER?**", just as she heard the sound of a fainted vampire hitting the floor behind her.

THE END

Whew... another chapter finished. Boy, I know you have to write when inspiration strikes, but I really wish it would stop striking me around midnight. Hahaha! Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I certainly got a kick out of writing it!

Please review, you dancing fools, you!


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